Killer's eye
by olafur
Summary: Despite beeng a member of the Quarrymen, young ex-con Walton Simons has never really belived in the existence of the 'gargoyles'. The trip to Scotland will change Walton's belief the hardest way imaginable.
1. Default Chapter

AUTHOR'S NOTE, PLEASE READ FIRST: I hail from Iceland, and when they started showing Gargoyles I tried watching them whenever I could. Sadly, there are many, many shows that I did not see, and now they're stopped showing them.  
  
I work in a video store, and sometimes it can be boring, so one day I just decided to give it a try and write a story. This is what came out of it.  
  
I would like to point out that I cannot be sure if or when I'll post another chapter. I guess it'll mostly depend on wether if people will like it or hate it. Feel free to tell me of your opinions.  
  
On that note, I think I'll also post this on fanfiction.net that way you can also tell your thoughts and opinions.  
  
As for WHEN this happens, I am still trying to learn the timeline of the Gargoyles, but I can tell you that it does not happen during or after Gargoyles Saga. I did consider making it happen after GS, but there were just too many holes and factors to consider.  
  
I've noticed many people choose they're stories after shows like the Hunter's Moon, but since that show was one of far too many that I missed, well......I'll think of something.  
  
Well then, enough of chat, let's see if you'll like what I've written here.  
  
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.  
  
Somewhere in Scotland, 3:10 PM.  
  
The atmosphere inside the small bus was mixed. Some were chatting to each other, others had headphones on and seemed to be enjoying Scotland's nature, while the rest had serious and somewhat grim expressions on they're faces.  
  
All of them were dressed like tourists wanting to go mountain-climbing, but their faces made it plain obvious they weren't.  
  
Then, the driver spoke.  
  
"Alright people, we're reaching the base. Pack your things together."  
  
.  
  
The 'base' was far away from any settlement, and looked like a big summer house on a big hill. It looked like it was made out of strong wood, had two floors and the area around it made it look like it had been cut out of a 'Perfect Houses' magazine. A green Hummer was parked outside.  
  
As the people got out of the bus and started taking their luggage from it, 3 people came out of the house. They too were dressed like tourists but walked like military men as they approached the people, who were facing them in a single line.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome." The man had no accent. He was an American in his late 30's. Tall, looked to be well muscled under his green sweater and was handsome. And though his voice was warm and welcoming, his eyes were stone-cold, ready to commit terrible things and not be bothered with it at all.  
  
"I'm sure you must be all tired from the long trip, so take your time to relax and settle in. We can get to know each other later on, and since we now have someone who knows how to cook, maybe we'll have a decent dinner for a change."  
  
The joke earned a bit of a chuckle, nothing more.  
  
As the people walked to the house, one of the women from the bus walked next to the youngest man of the group, who had spent the entire time in the bus alone, and had never spoken a word to anyone.  
  
He was about average height, brown hair, light-skinned, almost pale, and medium built. Of course, he didn't look like he was heavily muscled like most people in the group, but he did look like he worked out now and then. He seemed to be somewhere between 20-22 years old. He wasn't the ugly looking type, but he neither was Leonardo De Caprio or Brad Pitt.  
  
He had no expression on his face, and the area around his mouth suggested he rarely smiled.  
  
He also wore a pair of dark sunglasses, hiding his eyes.  
  
"Hi, my name's Janice, what's yours?"  
  
"Walton."  
  
"Scotland sure looks beautiful at this time of year, don't you think?" The woman asked cheerfully and flashed a big happy smile, obviously expecting a long conversation.  
  
"Mm-hm." Was the only reaction she got. He hadn't even bothered to look at her, and her big smile wavered a bit, but she refused to give up.  
  
"So, what did you think about being one of the selected? I mean, wow, to be trusted in handling such a serious matter! You sure must have some great skills!" Again with the cheerful voice, and a subtle hint at the word 'skills'.  
  
"I only got selected because I can cook." If his voice had been anymore colder, steam would have come out of his mouth.  
  
Hearing his voice made the woman stop dead in her tracks, while the young man and the rest of the group went inside.  
  
The driver, who had stayed behind to park the bus, had seen her talking to him, so he walked up to her with a dark look on his face, placed a hand on her shoulder and almost roughly spun her around to face him.  
  
"Stay away from him, Janice. The guy's trouble, nothing more."  
  
The slightly startled look on her face was replaced by anger.  
  
"Hey fuck you, Harry! In case your tiny brain forgot, YOU broke up with ME, and if you think you can just-" Her ranting was stopped by an equally angered Harry.  
  
"HEY! I hadn't forgot! I just don't want you to try and have something with THAT guy! Don't get fooled by his 'oooh, I'm soooo quiet and mysterious, try and get to know me!' looks, you're not the first to fall for it and try starting a conversation with him. He has NEVER shown the slightest interest to anyone, and all the women stopped trying with him after they were told a bit about his past."  
  
During they're time together as a couple, Janice had learned how to tell if Harry was lying, and to her slight surprise, she saw he wasn't, and the curiosity got the better of her.  
  
"What do you mean, about his past?" Harry looked quickly towards the house to ensure no-one was listening, then back to Janice.  
  
"He's an ex-con, Janice, and he didn't serve out his sentence or is on probation. He only got out because of some technicality, that his lawyer used to get him released."  
  
Surprise filled her face, as Janice looked towards the house, as if expecting to see the man standing there. Seeing that he wasn't, she turned back to Harry.  
  
"What was he in for?"  
  
With a grim expression, Harry leaned his head to Janice's ear, and whispered something.  
  
Janice gasped, her eyes became wide and all color was drained from her face.  
  
.  
  
. I got a room all for myself. Lucky me.  
  
It had a single bed, a drawer, a closet, a desk and a chair with it and a mirror on the wall. Another door led to the bathroom. A nice big window showed the green forest and the mountains, which was probably where everybody would be going soon.  
  
I had just dropped my bag on the bed when the doors opened, revealing one of the 3 men that were here before us. He, too, was all muscles.  
  
"Hey, you're the cook, right? Sarge wants you in the kitchen now. We've had nothing to eat but beans, and there's a chance we might go out tonight, so we need all the strength we can get. Dinner is to be ready within an hour, so get to it." When finished speaking, the guy left as quickly as he came. Judging by the sound of his voice, he was here because of his muscles, and not his I.Q.  
  
Taking my time to get out of the coat I was issued, I then opened my bag and took out my cooking tools. I was told this place would have all the food materials and the tools, but better safe then sorry, right?  
  
.  
  
.  
  
As Walton was about to leave the room, he removed his sunglasses and looked at his reflection.  
  
His eyes were light-gray, and held nothing at all. No warmth, no coldness......nothing. Just emptiness. He also looked like he slept little, yet did not appear to be affected by lack of sleep.  
  
Looking into his own eyes for just a second, he placed his sunglasses back on and left the room.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
4:00 PM.  
  
"A bit early for dinner, don't you think?" All the people were gathered around a large table. 8 men and 2 women. The cook was still in the kitchen, making him the 11th.  
  
On the wall above a fireplace hung a large flag that almost covered the entire wall.  
  
A blue colored flag, whose golden markings were a big Q with a hammer in it.  
  
The Quarrymen's insignia.  
  
The man, who at the moment was only known as 'Sarge,' simply shifted his head towards the kitchen door, obviously not going to say anything until they were all present. Sitting on his left and right were the other two men.  
  
They didn't have to wait long, as the kitchen door opened, and Walton, still wearing his sunglasses and an apron saying 'Kill The Chef', emerged holding a big tray, followed by a delicious smell.  
  
"Mmmm, that smells good. What is it?" the Sarge smiled, but his smile did not reach his cold eyes.  
  
"Omelet." Walton said as he placed the tray on the table, then made his way back to the kitchen, and soon came back with another omelet tray, and after placing that one on the table, he took a seat.  
  
Janice looked at him, but quickly looked the other way, trying her best to ignore him.  
  
One of the people started reaching for a tray, but was stopped by Sarge.  
  
"I know some introductions are in order, along with answers to questions I'm sure you all have. I assure you, all questions will be answered after we're finished eating. However, I think we should pray before eating, so we can receive our Lord's blessing over what we are here to do." No-one voiced an objection, and everybody placed they're hands together to pray.  
  
All except for the cook.  
  
And soon enough, all eyes were on him, as if he was expected to follow they're example.  
  
"I'm not the religious type." He stated.  
  
"No surprise there." Harry mumbled, though loud enough for everyone to hear. Sarge did not seem to notice, too busy looking at Walton, attempting to look at him straight into his eyes, which proved difficult, for not only because of his sunglasses, but also his head wasn't even looking in his direction.  
  
"And just why have you no faith, if I may ask?" He may have sounded not really interested, but to a trained ear, you could detect the dangerous edge in his voice, and told the person in question that if valued his health, he'd better answer quickly.  
  
"I believe what I see with my own eyes." He didn't even move his head to Sarge as he answered, which seemed to only aggravate him even more.  
  
"The Lord does not show himself just to convince his existence to us. His creation of us is more then enough to make us love him."  
  
"Perhaps." Walton finally turned his head to Sarge. "But if we all die today, then I guess we'll find out if Hell truly exists."  
  
The sounds of Sarge grinding his teeth could almost be heard, as he was obviously fighting the urge to bodily harm the insubordination of his team. Even kill him, maybe.  
  
"Let us pray." Sarge then said in a surprisingly calm voice. The others, who had only sat and watch the two man exchange words, immediately did as they were told.  
  
"Dear Lord, bless this food, for your loyal soldiers will soon engage Satan's spawns. And I ask of thee, to bless us as we head to battle, that we'll earn our rightful victory, and thus prevent these hells-pawns from claiming any more innocent lives then they already have. Blessed we are. Amen. Let's eat."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Charles "Sarge" Jacobson, age 38, former sergeant of U.S. Marines. Made an early retirement after losing his patience over his government for their lack of actions against the so-called 'gargoyles' in Manhattan.  
  
After going to some Quarrymen meetings, he managed to encourage some of his friends to do the same, and that by doing so, leaving the Marines to join the Quarrymen, the Q-balls would take care of them, offer them a roof over they're heads and some money for hunting and killing the 'flying beasts'.  
  
Which was NOT the reason they left the army, to become some sort of mercenary, but to do the 'right thing' for humanity. His words.  
  
Ask me, I think it's plain obvious he left the army out of lack of stripes on his shoulders. I mean, 38 years old and was still a sergeant? Please.  
  
After dinner and some introductions, the reason why we were all here, was finally brought into light.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
4;20 PM.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, about two months ago, Mr. Castaway realized of the possibility that New York may not be the only area that is infected with these things, and so send agents to numerous places around the globe. Me and some of my boys got sent here to Scotland. I confess that at first, we didn't hold much of a hope to find anything, until just out of sheer luck, Rico here was coming from the nearest town here with supplies, when he noticed these things flying in the night sky. And not only are these things here in Scotland, but they're nest just happens to be that mountain right over there." Sarge then pointed at the huge mountain that could be seen out of the big window in the living room, where everybody had gathered.  
  
The mountain was some distance away. It would take about an hour to drive there, though it could take days just trying to find something there.  
  
"Now, I know what I'm about to say is not what the guys back in New York had planned, but we are going to hit the place RIGHT NOW." The statement had the expecting results.  
  
Worried looks were exchanged, some showed their startlement, while others voiced they're objections. The only ones that were calm, were Charles, his two lap-dogs and Walton, who didn't even look like he had heard a word.  
  
The great and noble Sarge spoke, silencing everyone.  
  
"Just before your arrival here, I received a message from New York. The rest of the team will not arrive, due to engine failure on their plane. However, the reason why we will not simply wait for them, is because there is a high chance the demons are aware of our knowledge of them. You see, Rico did not only spot them, he also tracked them to their lair. However, when he was leaving, they became aware of him and he barely escaped unharmed." Sarge looked to the man on his left, obviously not pleased with his 'friend's' performance. Rico did nothing, just sat there with his jaw clenched, staring straight forward.  
  
"And just what will you attack them with? Harsh language?" All eyes were drawn to the source. Standing next to an open window, was Walton, smoking a cigarette, not even looking like he was paying any attention to the 'meeting.'  
  
"You were all instructed to bring hammers with you, but we also have some.....extra weapons, in case there might more then we anticipate. Myself, Rico and David are trained in firearms, and I understand some of you are in the police force, so weapons will be given to those who are trained. We don't want any accidents, people."  
  
"And just how many do you 'anticipate', SARGE? 10? 20? And better yet, the sun will set in less then two hours, so it is my opinion that we'll wait until tomorrow morning and-"  
  
"YOU ARE NOT IN CHARGE HERE, YOU MAGGOT! I AM! AND I SAY WE ATTACK NOW! AND THAT INCLUDES YOU COOKIE!!" Walton hadn't even reacted to Sarge's outburst, but at the last statement, it got a reaction in him.  
  
"Me? I'm a cook, not a fighter!" For a moment, Walton looked like he had lost his 'cool', wich brought a smirk on Sarge's lips.  
  
"I don't care if you are the fuckin' gardener, you are still a part of this team, and I am ordering you to arm yourself and come with us as we attack."  
  
Walton didn't move or say anything for a whole minute, then finally looked out the window.  
  
"Whatever you say, fearless leader."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
How the HELL did I get picked for this 'mission'? I made it clear to everyone back in New York that I'm just a cook, not some hammer-wielding weirdo, with a thing to smash statues, and too much of a chicken-shit to show my own face. Heck, I don't even believe these so-called gargoyles even exist! And yet, here I am in a room full of what look like God-fearing people, lead by someone who still hasint realised what kind of an asshole he is.  
  
I have a feeling I'll be spending a loooooong time in those damn mountains, just to discover that those 'flying beasts' were probably nothing but some large hawks, or something.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
5:15PM.  
  
The sun would be gone in about 20 minutes, maybe less, and the 'attack force' hadn't still reached the place where 'they' were supposed to be.  
  
Everyone wore they're Quarrymen armors, 5 of them were wielding hammers, the rest were armed with assault weapons.  
  
How they had managed to bring them into Scotland, Walton didn't know, nor did he want to.  
  
He was too busy trying to climb the mountain without falling down. And he wasin't the only one having problems. Well, it wasin't like they were climbing mount Everest, but it was difficult to slowly climb up while wearing a heavy armor AND holding a large hammer, which didn't exactly made them easy to climb, and so it was a wonder no-one had any accidents.  
  
But suddenly, Rico moved to one of many large bushes in the big rocks, and pulled some of it away, revealing a dark tunnel. You could practicly taste the surprise in everyone. Even Walton felt slightly surprised.  
  
No words were spoken. They were not needed. Everybody silendly moved inside, and for the first time in a long time, Walton felt startled.  
  
Just inside the opening of the cave, was a statue of a....something. It's legs were bend and hunched, making it looked like it was ready to pounce on anyone daring to enter the cave. The architecture was....amazingly accurate. The muscles in it, the hair, the tail, the wings on it's back, the exposed fangs and the leather armor it was wearing, looked almost amazingly real. In the dark, it could have easily been mistaken as the real thing.  
  
"Now do you see what kind of horrible beasts these things are?" Even Sarge sounded slightly stunned, as he almost whispered. "These things are truly demonic, as they cannot withstand sunlight, and thus during the day are nothing but stones. A true sign that tells us how twisted they are, when they cannot even stand our Lord's blessed sunlight. Let the nightmare end."  
  
Not saying anything, Sarge grabed the closest hammer, walked calmly towards the statue and the sound of the hammer charging itself could be heard, as the Sarge raised it, and without the slightest hesitation, brought it down.  
  
When the hammer made impact, a bright flash came just before the statue exploded, smoke surrounded Sarge's figure, as pieces of the statue were thrown everywhere. When the dust settled, Sarge's calm voice was heard.  
  
"Attack, my brothers and sisters. For the sun is almost down, and as that will happen, the demons will awaken. Let us strike as they slumber." He was so calm, so sure of himself, so...full of conviction that this was right, that HE was right and the world was wrong.  
  
The rest silendly followed him deeper into the caves.  
  
.  
  
"Shit."  
  
They had reached the end of the tunnel, only to discover that it split into several passages.  
  
"Alright people, looks like we need to split up. Rico and Janice, take that tunnel. David, you're with me. Harry, you-" Sarge's voice was drowned at the inhuman screams that filled the cave. But it vanished as quickly as it came.  
  
"They...they're awake.." Someone whimpered.  
  
"We all knew it might come to this. Just remember the reason why we're all here, and keep our Lord's blessing to our hearts, and we shall emerge as victors."  
  
The group was splitted into groups, and Walton got Harry and were send to the tunnel for to the right.  
  
.  
  
"Uh-oh, now what?" Before Walton and Harry, were two other tunnel openings.  
  
Before Walton could even think about answering, another in-human shriek was heard, followed by gunshots.  
  
"I believe they know we're here." Walton commented. Another scream was heard, except this one was a human scream, which sounded gurgled, like the lungs were full of water, or....blood.  
  
"O-oh sh-shit. U-umm, uh, yoh-you take that one, I'll take the other!" Harry stammered and shook, as he ran into one of the tunnels, leaving Walton behind.  
  
"How nice of you." He said, taking the other tunnel.  
  
.  
  
This one ended inside a big room that, luckily, that was lid up with torches on the walls, illuminating what looked like to be some sort of a lab. Or a library.  
  
It had several book-cayses pressed against the walls, all full of books, a desk that had several bottles on it, all containing colerfull fluids in them. In the middle of the room stood a large pot that had something in it that was very smelly.  
  
The place also stank with the smell of an ambush. The room had two other openings, and they were too dark to see if someone or something was there.  
  
Tightening his grip on his heavy hammer, Walton slowly walked towards one of the openings, his eyes scanning the room as he walked, and did not even dare to breathe.  
  
Considering that the room was inside a cave, the floor was surprisingly clean, and so Walton noticed the small rocks when he stepped on them.  
  
Looking down, the small stones looked like they had been smashed into peaces, and since there were so many of them, it looked like they had been.....a part of something larger.  
  
The slightest sound of an intake of a breath reached his ear, and it wasin't Walton's.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Spinning around while raising my hammer to strike whatever was behind me, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the.....source of the sound.  
  
There, huddled between bookcases, a pair of orange-colored eyes that showed fear, it's wings around it's dark-gray skin as if hoping by doing so it would not being seen, was a....a......  
  
A child.  
  
At least it.....he looked like a child.  
  
I don't why, but.....I just had the impression he was a child, he looked so....small when compared to the statue I had seen when we had entered the cave.  
  
The one....Sarge smashed.....no...killed. He had killed a sentient creature. Had the adult been the little one's father?  
  
"KILL THEM!! KILL THEM AAAAALLL!!!!" The mad voice of the Sarge echoed into the room, followed by smashing sounds, gunfire and more screams, both human and....gargoyle.  
  
They existed, but.....  
  
Even if these 'gargoyles' were as evil as the Quarrymen said they were, the one I was looking at, was just a child.  
  
Just...a child.  
  
Children are....innocent, no matter how hard you try to prove otherwise, no matter how much bullshit you spew trying to prove otherwise, children are innocent. Period.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Very slowly, Walton lowered his hammer from the striking position it had been in, and slowly raised his hand in front of him, as if hoping the winged being would understand he meant no harm, as he slowly went to his knees, placed his hammer on the floor, and slowly removed his hood, revealing his face.  
  
"Listen, I...." He didn't even know if the little one would understand him, but he had to try. "I mean you no harm but....there are others in here, who are here to hurt." Those orange-colored eyes still showed fear, and the sounds of battle that was happening elsewhere didn't help. "I...I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to see you get hurt, so please, whatever you do, be quite and hide, and wait until someone you know comes. Okay?" Walton tried to sound gentle and truthful, but had no idea how he sounded. Those orange eyes didn't even blink, they were fixed on him.  
  
Slowly gribbing his hammer, Walton stood slowly up, and walked away towards the passage he had entered from.  
  
The young hatchling remained still, as a tall figure emerged from the shadows of one of the passages, the person had just witnessed what had happened.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
When running in the dark tunnels, the sounds of battle had changed.  
  
It now sounded like a slaughter. And by the sound of it, it weren't the humans that were doing the slaughter.  
  
When Walton reached the divided section, he looked around franticly, trying to remember which way was what, when a gurgling voice was heard.  
  
"Cookie....help.." Out of one of the tunnels, a figure crawled out of it.  
  
It was Sarge, half of his face was covered in blood, and his body looked all beaten and broken. Litarelly.  
  
Walton started to move towards Sarge, when a pair of white glowing eyes appeared above Sarge's body, followed by a hissing sound and a snarl.  
  
Startled, Walton nearly fell as he backed away. The creature's head became slightly exposed, revealing deadly sharp fangs. Walton didn't see much more of it, but seeing how high they eyes were, it was at least over seven feet tall.  
  
Then, more eyes appeared out of the caves, and they didn't sound very friendly.  
  
Walton turned and ran.  
  
"YOU SORRY SONOFABITCH HELPME!!!" Walton heard the rage and the fear in Sarge's voice, but he kept running, never looking back.  
  
Then....the sounds of flesh being ripped apart reached his ears.  
  
Walton kept running.  
  
.  
  
They were coming for him. He could hear they're snarls and smell they're hatred for him. He needed to escape from this place.  
  
Taking a turn to the right, Walton finally saw the exit, but that vision became blocked when something huge stepped in front of him.  
  
Something heavy and large hit Walton in the face, and for a moment his vision was filled with bright light, then he was thrown backwards and hit a large, warm wall.  
  
A wall that grabbed his arms at in-human strength and twisted the wrist of the hand that was holding the hammer, and the sounds of bones breaking was heard.  
  
It felt like a fire was burning inside of his broken wrist, but when Walton opened his mouth to scream, something heavy hit him in the stomach, all air left his lungs and his vision blurred for a moment.  
  
When it returned, Walton wished it hadn't.  
  
In front of him stood four of the winged ones, all they're eyes glowed so much he could see how they were build, though they're faces were still hidden in the dark.  
  
Two of them glowed blood-red, and from the way they were build, suggested the red-eyed ones were females.  
  
All of them were over six feet tall, and of different build, some were slim while others were rippling in muscles.  
  
Then one of them spoke.  
  
"Is he the last one?" Walton didn't know which was more of a shock, that they could speak, or they had sounded like humans  
  
"Yes." A different voice, a woman's voice this time, and her tone was not friendly.  
  
"Make him suffer."  
  
The beating started.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
A hard punch in the stomach and I bent over on reflex, but the one holding me pulled my arms up so fast and hard, my arms were almost dislocated. I then felt something wrap around my legs, and it tightened too much for me to even move my legs.  
  
Another punch, except this one went into my left cheek, almost smashing my jaw and loosened some teeth.  
  
One of the females slashed into my chest, her claws penetrated my armor like it was nothing, and I could feel the claws had sliced into my skin, but before I could even open my mouth, the punches and slashes just kept on going, and I lost all count, it all became a blur of pain to me.  
  
I didn't bother to plead or beg. I knew hatred when I saw one. My only hope was it would all end quick.  
  
But just as it had started suddenly, it stopped.  
  
At some point, blood had splattered into my eyes, making it sting and difficult to see, but I heard something. It sounded like heavy footsteps, and they grew closer, until I felt a hot breath hit my face.  
  
Then, an extremely large hand grabbed my neck, and I could feel claws sink into both of my chins as I was slowly raised up. Blinking repeatedly to clear my eyes proved useless, the only thing I could see was a bright light and a hot breath breathing into my face. The hand that was holding me by the throat was wet, and it wasin't sweat. It was blood.  
  
A human blood, and it wasin't mine.  
  
Suddenly, the huge gargoyle moved me so fast I saw only blur, but when it stopped, I felt my back pressed against the large gargoyle.  
  
Then, arms that were at least three times larger then my own, wrapped around me in an almost crushing hug, and I could feel my armor slowly bend at the awesome force.  
  
I heard some words, some sort of a command but I couldn't understand it. But I could see one of the gargoyles move up to me, our eyes were at the same level, as it almost lazily moved one of his clawed finger up to my face.  
  
The sharp claw stopped at the left side of my temple, at the roots of my hair.  
  
Pressure was added, and it penetrated deep into my skin, probably touching the bone. I tried to move my head away, but another hand grabbed my throat and held me steady, as the claw moved slowly down towards my left eye, slicing my skin like it was butter.  
  
I tried so hard not to scream, my teeth were nearly crushed. I could feel hot blood streaming out of the long wound, as the claw stopped just before it would have reached my left eye.  
  
The gargoyle left, and another walked up, and did the same thing. Slowly slicing my skin next to the other wound, down to my left eye, and so did the next one.  
  
The fourth one, however, put her claw dangerously close below my left eye, and moved downwards, and so did the other.  
  
At that point, I felt like my face was on fire, that I could feel it slowly melt, as the burning hot blood slowly, but steadily, came out of the five cuts they had inflicted upon me. The pain from my wounds, not just in my face, but my broken wrist, my slashed chest and beaten body, was so much that I felt like my heart was about to explode inside my chest.  
  
But before that happened, the giant holding me shifted me in his arms, so only his left one was nearly crushing me against his large mass.  
  
Through the pain, my ears detected a sound, and smaller hands grabbed a hold of my head, and forced me to look up to the giant gargoyle.  
  
"You humans have a way to commend your warriors when they have won great battles." His voice was deep, and I could feel my body vibrate.  
  
"Honoring them by giving them symbols, medals and...stars. Well, guess what, human. You have just earned a star." And as simple as that, the huge gargoyle plunged one of his claws deep into my left eye.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Up to this point, Walton had not given them the pleasure of hearing him scream.  
  
But feeling his own eye explode, it's water mixing into it's blood, the electric feeling of pure pain, feeling the sharp claw sink deeper and deeper into they eyehole was....beyond pain.  
  
Walton felt a volcano inside of him explode, and felt all the suppressed screams and cries fill his lungs, all of them heading towards the exit of his mouth. But before they came, the gargoyle tightened his arm around Walton even more, crushing his armor, cutting off any hope of getting air, and he could feel a rib-bone or two break inside of him.  
  
With a sickening sound, the gargoyle retrieved his finger, the remains of Walton's eyes stuck on it's claw, then released his hold of Walton, whose body fell to the ground, not moving nor showing the slightest sign of life.  
  
"Is he dead?"  
  
Plugging the eye of his claw, he then flips it away as it were just bugger, then looks down at the pathetic broken looking human.  
  
"No. He's only passed out because of lack of oxygen." Then the huge gargoyle raises his large foot, and without hesitation, slams it into Walton's right knee-cab, and the cave is momanterely filled with sickening sounds of crushing bones and ripping skin.  
  
"But I intend to make him wish he were dead."  
  
To be Continued.....  
  
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I will try to write more, but I can't promise anything. I will attempt to tell you just how Walton will survive, what will happen to him, if he was sentenced to prison guilty or innocent, and the horrible thing that happened to him there.  
  
I will try. That's the best I can do, for now. 


	2. SeaTurtle Fans Are An Odd Sort

AUTHOR: I'm really sorry on how long it took me to write this. Lets just say I got....distracted. I do hope everybody will enjoy this, and if you feel like expressing yourself, you can either mail me or go to and review it there.  
  
Special thanks to Doppleganger for beta-reading it.  
  
Disclaimer: The Gargoyles are not my probarty and all, but to the ones that created them, blablabla.  
  
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Several months later...28'th august, 1998....  
  
The Seahawk was said to have a reputation, and not in a good way. It was a bar, inside a small town at the docks. The place had mixed people. Some were just hard-working fishermen enjoyng a drink, while others did work out in the sea, though that work was not fishing.  
  
At least, that was written in Sarge's notes.  
  
.  
  
The large room was packed with people, smoke, drunken songs and the stench of alcahol. Yet another busy night at the Seahawk. It was a small town, and everybody knew everyone, and so, they all noticed the stranger who had just entered.  
  
His clothes, a brown jacket and matching pants, looked like they were couple of numbers too large for him. His long hair was brown and tied in a ponytail, and had a beard that looked severel months old and was poorly cut. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, but on the left side of the face, five long lines of scars came from the left eye, three were above the eye and the other two went down from the eye.  
  
Since strangers were a rare sight in the town, everyone shamelessly watched him, as he slowly looked around the room, as if looking for someone specific. When he looked in the direction in one of the corners of the bar, he started walking there, limbing on his right leg. When everyone saw where he was heading to, everyone imidiatly looked away, and conversation quickly started again.  
  
In the corner sat a man smoking and drinking a beer and was surrounded by three large men, obviosly his bodyguards. When the young limbing man was about to reach the sitting man, one of the others stepped in the way, folded his hands around his large chest to look more intiminating, and spoke in an english accent.  
  
"Bugger off, gimpy. This section is reserved." Even though the english one was a giant compared to the other, he did not appear to have been intinimated.  
  
"I came here to talk about sea-turtles. I heard that there's a fella here who also has a great interest in sea-turtles, and I want to exchange knowledge with him."  
  
The english man turned to the sitting man, who gaved a slight nod. He moved away, and the limbing man sat in front of the sitting man.  
  
His face was slightly hidden in the shadow, but he was dressed like any other villager, and the only thing that seems to make him stick out of the crowd, was his red-hair that was slowly turning grey. He looked like he was in his late 50's.  
  
"I heard you have an interest in sea-turtles." The red-haired man said nothing at first, took a long drag out of his cigar, and blew the smoke into the other man's face.  
  
"Is that a fact. An' just where did ye hear that, if ye don' mind me askin'?" Red-man sounded english, though his accent sounded like a mixed english/scottish.  
  
"From another guy, who was a bit of a Q-ball, if you ask me."  
  
"Ah." The english guy seemed to remember.  
  
"I myself have gotten a hold of couple of sea-turtles, and I wish to take them and they're toys with me to New York. However, I fear that something might happen to them during the trip, and I wanted to ask you if you knew a 'safe way'. I would be very greatfull."  
  
"An' just how greatfull, if ye don' min' me askin'?"  
  
Without saying anything, the newcomer slowly reached into his pocket, and placed a small black box on the table.  
  
When he opened it, the englishman's eyebrows went straight up.  
  
"Now that's one hell 'efa sea-turtle." The new-comer closed the box and placed it back into his pocket.  
  
"A very good looking sea-turtle, I know. You could brag about it and show it to your fellow sea-turtle fans, and maybe they might even be willing to buy it from you. I don't care. What I do care, is that MY sea-turtles will not come to harm during the travel. They are large and heavy, but also extremely fragile. If something would harm them, well....I'd become really sad. When it comes to my two sea-turtles, I am very sentimental about them." A hidden threat in the voice. The bodyguards edged slightly closer to the newcomer, looking very dangerous and angry at how he had spoken to they're boss, but the newcomer didn't even seem to be aware of them.  
  
The air around the two men became even thicker more, as the english man seemed to be thinking very carefully.  
  
Finally, after severel minutes of silence, he spoke.  
  
"Come back here tomorrow mornin', where we can talk more 'bout sea-turtles. An' who knows, maybe we'll take a quick spin 'round me boat. I hope that is....alright with you?" Sarcasm was in his voice, a dangerous sign in such a man, but the newcomer kept his cool.  
  
"Then I guess I'll come back here tomorrow morning." The newcome started to stand up, but the guard behind him placed his hands on his shoulder and roughly pushed him back to his seat.  
  
The english man finished his beer before speaking.  
  
"I don' know ye anymore then ye know me. So allow a fella to tell ye a bit abou' me. I'm a man who doesn't like it when some stranger shows up out of the blue, with sea-turtles on his mind. I'm a man who doesn't like it when a stranger knows about me through someone else who isin't with him. I'm a man who doesn't like talking to someone who's too afraid to even show his own eyes."  
  
The sounds surrounding the table no longer reached they're ears. The older english man didn't move at all, his eyes fixed on the stranger. His bodyguards were around the table, one of them was slowly moving his hand into his jacket.  
  
The stranger himself looked like he wasin't even breathing, until he finally showed a sign of life.  
  
"If that is what it takes." The stranger lowered his head a bit, then removed his sunglasses and looked back up to the english man, who recoiled backward, his face showing both surprise and disgust. Even the guards took a slight step backwards.  
  
"Bloody 'ell! What happened to yer eye?!" The stranger had no left eye, he wasin't even wearing an eye-patch to cover the dark-hole that was there.  
  
"Mounting climbing. Stumbled on a nest where the inhabitands weren't very thrilled to see me."  
  
.  
  
After Sean Williamson's father had died after a heart-attack, he had taken over his father's smuggling bussiness in Scotland. Sean had seen, done and smuggled many things across the sea, from precios artifacts that some pompus rich guy wanted but couldn't have it transported legally, to living people that would either spend the rest of they're lives in prostitution or as carriers. Or worse: As spare parts.  
  
Sean was the type that followed certain rules. No matter who or what needed to be smuggled, if the price was right and he could do it, he would and did so without asking any questions. Far too many smugglers had beem removed for being to curious or greedy, and Sean had no desire to follow that same path.  
  
And years of dealing with all sorts of characters had taught Sean a thing or two on how to tell whether a guy was lying or hiding something. He had seen many who lacked mercy or compassion, or where the word 'humane' was unknown to them.  
  
And yet, even now, there were still people that managed to surprise him.  
  
.  
  
"An' ah.....yer Q-ball friend. Where he be?" Sean tried to keep his eyes fixed on the newcomer's right eye, but his own eyes always moved to his left, to the dark-hole that looked like an endless pit.  
  
"He was with me when we stumbled on that nest, and was slightly more wounded then I. It was he who informed me of you, someone who could help us with those sea-turtles that were, very strangely, in the nest we found." Only the stranger's mouth moved, and his eye did not waver, nor was there any reaction in his pupil. He also made no attempt to put his sunglasses back on.  
  
For a moment, Sean Williamson wondered wich eye held a darker pit. The actual hole, or the right eye.  
  
"So...anything else you wish to know?"  
  
"..no, uh...that'll be all. Remember, be 'ere tomorrow mornin' an' just knock."  
  
The newcomer nodded and was about to stand up when he looked like he had remembered something. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper and placed it on the table.  
  
"Before I forget, I wrote my sea-turtles' measurement so I could be a show- off." Sean looked at the paper, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"When ye said yer sea-turtles were big an' heavy, ye really did mean it, didn't ya?"  
  
.  
  
You are probably wondering by now why I'm not dead, why they didn't finish what they had started at?  
  
To tell you the truth, I am slightly dissapointed they weren't given the chance to kill me. I mean.....to have allowed them enough time to not only beat me into a bloody pulp and scar my face, but to rip my eye out and smash my right leg so badly I'll be limping for the rest of my life....to have allowed them enough time to do all that and not let them kill me.....I.....  
  
Who the hell am I kidding, I deserved all what they did, and more.  
  
The Brown Eyes demand revenge for what I did all those years ago. Whenver I close my eye or fall asleep, the eyes are always there, waiting for they're vengeance.  
  
I....I guess I'd better tell you what happened all those months ago, though it feels like it had just happened. To tell you what happened, after I had passed out....  
  
.  
  
"What are ye all doing?! Cease immediatly!" The group surrounding Walton's body all turned to the source of the angry voice.  
  
The owner's voice was an elder gargoyle, green-skinned and wrinkled like an elephant. His silver-white beard reached down to his chest and his head was almost bald, he was hunched over, his wings looking frail and weak, as if the slightest touch would make them crumble into dust.  
  
His frail looking right hand rested on the cavern wall, though not as to lean on, but to guide him, for his eyes, now milky-white, were no longer granting him the gift of sight.  
  
Standing next to him was a tall ruby red-skinned gargess, her raven-black hair reaching down her back. Two goat-like horns stuck out of her temple, giving her a bit of a demonic look. She was dressed in a loose white-tunic that reached down to her legs, almost touching the ground, stating that her skills were....mystical.  
  
She wore a tight belt around her belly, wich held several small pouches and couple of bottles.  
  
Her oranged-colored eyes were slightly wide, as if she was trying to control herself after witnessing some of the slaughter the humans had brought, but seemed to be also aware that it was not over just yet.  
  
"So, old one. I see that you survived." Said the largest gargoyle of the group, folding his massive arms across his chest, holding his head high so he could look down at the elder gargoyle, slightly showing his fangs, thus revealing his disgust at the elder. His eyes connected to the red-gargess for a second, but were back on the elder.  
  
"Ay, that I did. Apologes for...dissapointing ye." The elder, even after losing his sight years ago, seemed to be very capable of seeng the disgust, the anger on the large gargoyle.  
  
Then, his wringled nose twitched a bit, and his milky-white eyes slightly widened.  
  
"I smell much blood here, young ones. Tell me, how many humans did ye tear apart like the one that was leading them?" Despite the stern and barely controlled anger in the elder's voice, the large gargoyle chuckled nastily, and soon the rest chuckled with him aside from the elder and the red gargess.  
  
"Heh, heh, heh. On the contrary, old elder. This one is the last of these disgusting humans that attacked us. We are simply....expressing our anger at him." Though he started at sounding amused, his voice ended at a dangerous growl, and his eyes slightly flickered in the dark.  
  
"There has been enough killing here already! I command ye all to stop!" The elder's voice may have held an air of command or authority at a time, but to the group, it only angered them.  
  
"THEY ATTACKED AND SLAUGHTERED US!! KILLED OUR BRETHREN AS THEY SLEPT AND SMASHED ALL OF OUR EGGS AND KILLED ALL OF OUR HATCHLINGS!! THERE IS NO-ONE LEFT BUT US AND WE DEMAND BLOOD FOR BLOOD!!!" The large gargoyle's eyes shined in the light and his booming voice nearly shook the cave. Even those who were with him torturing Walton cringed and took a step back away from the angered giant, while the elder did not step back nor cringe.  
  
"Interesting choise of words, impulsive one. Blood, for blood. An' just how does that make ye and us any better then the humans that came here?"  
  
The large gargoyle did not speak right away, as he looked at the elder with...disbelief.  
  
"I cannot belive this. Even after all this, you still DARE to defend the humans?! The very same race that drove us here centuries ago, that forced us to fear THEM and HIDE?! The race that came here tonight and ATTACKED US?! AND EVEN AFTER ALL THAT, YOU DARE TO PREVENT OUR RIGHTFULL REVENGE?!" His eyes glowed again and exposed his fangs, and he looked like he was about to strike the elder, but then the tall red-gargess stepped between them and looked directly into the eyes of the furious gargoyle.  
  
"Not all of our children were killed. One of them was saved by the very human that you were just torturing." When compared to the furious gargoyle, the gargess looked rather frail, despite her tallness. But her eyes, the very air around her somehow made her look stronger. Possibly stronger then any of the gargoyles in the caves, and the angry one saw it, and looked slightly more calmed as her words sank in.  
  
"What? He....saved one of our...hatchlings?"  
  
He looked down at Walton's body, the only thing telling he was still alive was the slight rise in his chest. The tall gargoyle looked back to the gargess.  
  
"Whom did he save?"  
  
The gargess said nothing, simply looked behind her, and looked at the small gargoyle that was peeking from one of the passage-ways, still looking very much afraid.  
  
When the tall gargoyle saw the hatchling, he simply snorted in disgust.  
  
"Of all the hatchlings he saved, he just had to save THAT one." The hatchling's eyes became full with hurt and pain, and he quickly dissappeared into the shadows.  
  
The red gargess' face became furious, but the large gargoyle said nothing more, he simply turned around and started walking away.  
  
"Where do ye think yer going!" Yelled the elder gargoyle. The large gargoyle stopped but did not turn around as he spoke.  
  
"There is nothing here anymore. All what remains of our clan are us, the rest are dead. For years I have warned you elders of the humans, but as always, you chose to remain ignorant and today we have payed a heavy price. I am leaving, and those who feel as I do, should do the same." He did not wait to hear the responds, he did not stop as the elder yelled at him.  
  
The remaining gargoyles looked from the leaving gargoyle to the elder and then at each other, and without looking back, they all followed the gargoyle, leaving the elder and the red gargess behind, none of them looking back.  
  
The elder looked like he was about to break in tears, while the gargess was too shocked to say anything. The only ones still in the cave were they, and the human.  
  
"Child...." The elder's voice nearly broke when he whispered.  
  
"Yes elder?" The gargess was already standing next to him, sensing his anguish and sorrow inside of him, and his battle of inner-control.  
  
"...check the human. See if he...still lives..."  
  
The gargess half-bowed, then hurried towards the human, but when she saw his state, a tiny gasp escaped her lips, as she kneeled next to the battered human.  
  
"How is he, child?" Though he had lost his sight, his hearing had remained strong.  
  
"They....they have done much damage to him, elder." The gargess half- whispered, as she used her claws to gently cut the battered Quarrymen armor so she could remove it without hurting the human.  
  
With the armore removed, his bare chest was exposed, revealing several traces of scars across it, and as she gently traced her fingers across it, a small whimper of pain came from the human's lips, but still remained unconcious.  
  
"Some of his ribs are broken, elder. I'll have to heal them first before moving him, or I might kill him."  
  
Gently placing her hands on the human's chest, the gargess closed her eyes in concentration, and the elder could hear her whispering as energys came from her hands, and went into the human's chest.  
  
When she was done, all the cuts were closed but had not faded away, leaving nothing but scars on his chest.  
  
"What more did they do to him, child?" The elder gently asked as he leaned against the cave's wall, feeling more drained then he ever had felt before.  
  
"They....they did many things to him, elder. His leg is badly broken, but I think I have enough energy to save it. And.....they..."  
  
"What is it, child?" Asked the elder at hearing the slight tremor in her voice.  
  
"They....scarred his face, elder, and...."  
  
"And?"  
  
"They....they took one of his eyes."  
  
"No..."  
  
Gargoyles guard and protect, as it is in they're nature, they're purpose. Gargoyles only kill when there is no other choice and when a great unjustice has been done against them. When that is the case, revenge is what mostly drove them.  
  
But to....to kill so savagely, and then join together in restraining and torturing someone who wouldn't have stood a chance against them is....is unthinkable.  
  
And yet, that is what had happened tonight, and not only had they become nothing more then animals, they had taken they're anger, they're hate against someone who had never committed a crime against gargoyles.  
  
"Tell me, child, tis' one ye told me of? The one who did not want to hurt the child?"  
  
"Yes, elder, I saw it happen with my own eyes. He wore they'er armor and he carried they're weapons, but when he saw the child, he did not strike, nor did he want to. He even told him not to move nor give a sound, until one of us would come. He has done nothing wrong against us!"  
  
Gargoyles do not judge people in groups, but as individuals. If only humans would do the same, much suffering could have been avoided.  
  
"Then it is my decision, as the....last elder of..our clan, that this human has done nothing wrong against us, and we must help him. Ye know what to do, child, ye know what to do." The elder turned around and walked away, his hand tracing the cave walls, looking utterly defeated.  
  
The gargess felt the same way, but she was needed.  
  
She cut into the human's pants around his right knee and then she saw how badly broken his leg was.  
  
His skin had been badly ripped by a broken bone that now stuck out, his kneecab totaly smashed and it was bleeding badly.  
  
She placed her hands on the broken leg gently as she could muster, and started speaking in low voice.  
  
The broken bone slowly sunk pack into the leg, but this time, it took a great deal of energy, and the gargess' concentrated face showed how much strain she was going through, as tricklets of sweat slowly started forming on her face. She continued the slow healing process until she had reached the end of her limits.  
  
When she reached her limits, she stopped and breathed heavily and wiped the sweat from her face. The leg, however, had not been healed completly, but it was enough to risk moving the human.  
  
When she picked him up, she didn't look like she had any problems carrying him , and carefully carried the human in her arms deeper into the cave.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
I was up in the hills when I decided to take a breather. Walking in clothes that were couple of numbers too big was a bit draining. I must have lost over 20 pounds during the past months, and what little muscles I once had, had now melted away.  
  
Looking back, I saw the lights coming from the small town. The way the lights were and that the location of the town was right next to the sea, wich reflected the stars and the full moon in the nightsky, made the view.....remarkable.  
  
I then made the mistake of putting my weight into my right leg.  
  
An eletric surge of pain exploded inside my kneecab and surged into my whole leg, and I nearly howled in pain. I quickly shifted to my left leg, but did so too fast and fell in the grass.  
  
I laid there, gritting my teeth and clenching my fists as the pain slowly faded away. Despite trying her best, my leg didn't heal right, and putting even the slightest weight into it created pain.  
  
You can't even begin to imagine what I need to go through for just walking to the toilet.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
"Why are you doing this?"  
  
All in all, it was a reasonable question. Walton had been a part of a group that attacked and nearly killed an entire clan of gargoyles, which before that happened, Walton hadn't belived they even existed.  
  
Something he had learned the hard way.  
  
And now, not only was he still alive, but he was beeng treated like a....patient. His wounds were beeng treated, he was offered food and bed, even some kind of a special potion that temperorily made him unable to feel, otherwise he would have been screaming in pain.  
  
And, to top it all, the old gargoyle and the 'gargess' had even apologized to him for what the other gargoyles had done to him, even treated him with respect and had shown no anger or hatred towards him. As for the 'hatchling' he had 'spared', so far Walton had only seen him in shadows, taking a peek at him but quickly dissappearing when seen.  
  
And now, two months after the attack, he had been practising in bending and twisting his right wrist, wich was rather stiff after being unused for some time, when he finally asked the question that had been on his mind ever since he woke up in the lair. His right leg was still strapped, and half his face was covered in bandages.  
  
He had been placed in a bed that in a library/laboratory room, the only ones in it was him and the red skinned gargess that went by the name of Ruby. It fit.  
  
She claimed to have been the clan's shaman, and had spent the majority of her life studying the arts of magic. And to top it all, she also claimed to be some sort of an empath, an ability that made her able to sense emotions in and around people. So self-control and inner-stability was a large factor in her life, if she wanted an easy one. Even her voice sounded like it came from stability itself, and was usually gentle.  
  
Ruby placed the book she had been reading into one of the book-shelves, before turning to Walton, her head slightly tilted to the right, keeping some distance from him.  
  
"What do you mean, Walton?" There, always so damn respectful. Why can't she just hate me?  
  
"You know what I mean. I'm in an organization dedicated in exterminating your kind. I was a part of a group that attacked and murdered nearly everyone, and yet you treat me like....like nothing of that ever happened. Why?"  
  
She didn't answer right away, though she looked like she was thinking.  
  
"We gargoyles think a bit differently then humans. When it comes into judging someone, we judge the same as a person, and what his or her crime was. Yes, you were among those who nearly wiped my clan out, but you yourself did nothing against us. In fact, you spared one of our own, even tried to help him. I was there when it happened, and I sensed you did not want to hurt him, or anyone else."  
  
She then smiled at Walton.  
  
"And for that, I thank you."  
  
.  
  
Fast forward to that hill...  
  
.  
  
As I was standing up again, I heard the now familiar sounds of gliding, and heard her land close by.  
  
"Are you alright, Walton?" Damn you, Ruby, why do you have to sound so damn worried for me?  
  
"Just forgot for a moment that my leg is busted, but I'll survive." I managed to stand up again, and Ruby kept a respectful distance away from me, though I had a feeling she wanted to help me.  
  
"Why did you not drink the medicine I gave you? It will ease the pain in your leg and make walking far more easier for you." I choosed to ignore the question.  
  
"Was I followed?" I looked back to the town I was coming from.  
  
"Why do you put yourself in so much-"  
  
"Was. I. Followed?" I finally looked at her. Anyone else seeing her, standing in the dark, would either run away screaming or faint, but I now had gotten used to seeng her.  
  
"No. No, Walton, you were not followed." Her usually formal voice of stability sounded strained and on edge. That made two of us. I guess I have a...'piss off' attitute towards people, and I'm not about to change it anytime soon.  
  
"Good. See you back at the house." I started walking, and did not stop when Ruby asked.  
  
"I can carry you, Walton. It would be easier for you."  
  
"I'm used to beeng on my own."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
"Walton, please! You must drink, it will ease your pain!" Ruby was kneeling next to a heavily bandaged Walton inside the cave-room, his face twisted in pain and agony, as Ruby tried to make him drink the potion she had made for him, but he refused drinking.  
  
"..wait...the summer...house, where we came from...." Even speaking strained him already more then he already was, and Ruby was having difficulty surpressing the wave of pain and anguish she was sensing from Walton. On top of it all, he was forcing himself into the pain, which only made it worse, in her opinion.  
  
"Yes Walton, what about it?" The sooner he would say what he wanted to say, the sooner Ruby could make him drink.  
  
"More of us delayed..must....might be...mmmm....notes on where this cave is!" Walton was now on the verge of tears, so much pain was he in. But Ruby now understood.  
  
"I understand, Walton. I shall go there and see if there are any things that will lead them to us, but first you must drink this!" Ruby moved the bottle to his trempling lips, and he offered no resistence this time.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
The potion she made me drink had me knocked out for two days straight, and when I woke up, Ruby had not only went to that summer house, but she had also taken everything from it and brought it back to the cave.  
  
And I mean everything. Books, papers, bags, clothes, a computer and the map Sarge had used. And inside Sarge's bag was a diary telling me how they had smuggled those guns into Scotland, who had done it and where and how the smuggler could be contacted.  
  
I feel responsible for what had happened. I could have done something, prevented so many deaths.....  
  
About a month ago, another death was added.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
"There are many ways we gargoyles bury our dead. One of them is to burn the body and spread the ashes into the wind, so the spirit can travel wherever it desires. But if what you told me is true, then there is just too much of a risk the other Quarrymen will see the fire, and find us. So this will have to do."  
  
Me, Ruby and the little guy were what was once called the 'eggchamber'. Standing there only increased my guilt over what had happened. Everywhere there were broken shells and pieces of what were once gargoyles in stonesleep. In a room that once represented beginning of life, now held nothing but death.  
  
At the center of the room, the elder gargoyle was wrapped in white sheets, the body surrounded by candles.I didn't know what to say, didn't know if I was even allowed to, but I felt the rare feeling of speaking.  
  
"...I'm sure he would understand." Barely a whisper, but I knew Ruby had heard me, but neither of us said anything more, we just stood there, staring at the sheets. The little guy stood next to Ruby, but I think I heard him cry.  
  
As for myself, well....Elder sometimes spent his time talking to me, about his race, it's history, they're rules and customs and why they had retreated to the mountains among other things. We weren't exactly friends, but....I kinda liked the old geezer. Even though I'm not the most social guy in the world, I do sometimes feel the urge to talk to someone, sometimes anyone.  
  
After what seemed like hours standing there, I decided to ask Ruby.  
  
"The others that left. They're not coming back, are they?" I finally looked up to Ruby, who was nearly head taller then me, but she kept her eyes on the elder's body.  
  
"No, they will not come back, not if I know they're....new leader." Somehow I knew she meant the one who took my eye.  
  
It was at that moment when something clicked inside of me, an idea came up that was so crazy and dangerous, I would have laughed if I had remembered how. But regardless, I knew I had to do it. I owed it to them. To her.  
  
"Ruby, the...the reason why the Quarrymen was formed, was because people belived they had seen gargoyles in New York, a large city in America." Ruby broke her eye-contact to the body, and looked down to me, a trail of tears coming from her eyes.. She had been silendly crying and I hadn't even noticed.  
  
"So there's a chance there could be gargoyles in New York., but I'm not sure myself. I guess I'll find out when I start looking." That earned a blink and a surprised look on Ruby's face.  
  
"You mean....you are going to this...city to look for more of us? Why?"  
  
"So I can tell them what has happened here, and to tell them that the two of you survived. I mean, surely they would accept you, right?"  
  
Ruby blinked her teary eyes a few times, then started rubbing her hand in her face to dry her wet face.  
  
"Well, yes, I belive they would. But...this city, this...New York as you call it, is it not where the Quarrymen are the strongest? And what would happen should they find out about what you did, that you did not do what they wanted you to do, and that you are trying to help us?" Doesn't take a genuis to figure that one out.  
  
"Oh, no doubt they'd call me traitor to the human race and all that junk, then they'd either just kill me or take they're time killing me extremely slowly and painfully, thus sending a message to would-be gargoyle sympathisers." Ruby's expression could be best descriped as a shock, either from how I had spoken so normally about the dangers, or that my 'Q-ball friends' would do to me.  
  
"You would....willingly help us, to risk your own life even after what we have done you?" Even the little guy peeked at me with a surprised look.  
  
"Hey, you and little guy here aren't at fault at what...happened to me. And truthfully....ah..." Damn, this is harder to say then I thought.  
  
"Yes, Walton?"Taking a deep breath and looking into those eyes gaved me the right words to say.  
  
"Truthfully, when I joined the Quarrymen, I didn't belive that gargoyles existed, that it was nothing but a myth. Well, when I saw you truly existed, I confess that for some time I was in slight doubt whether if you were all....demonic, as the Quarrymen claimed you were. But after spenting time here, listening to you and....Elder...I've realised that you are not what the Quarrymen claim you to be. Gargoyles...guard and protect. And it is because of that I've decided to help you, because it is the right thing to do."  
  
But the REAL truth was that by helping them, I hoped that it would make the Brown Eyes dissappear, somehow redeeming myself....so I could...live. A part of me knows this hope is false, but....I have to at least try. For my....the only one who belived I was improsined innocent. She belived in me, all the way to her death....  
  
"I....I see. I....thank you, Walton." Ruby meant what she said.  
  
"But Walton, how will you move us into this New York city?"  
  
"Us? What do you mean by 'us'?"  
  
It started going downhill after that in my opinion, and I think you've figured it out by now how THAT argument ended.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
After marching up the hill a bit more, I finally could see the old house we were staying at, for the moment anyway.  
  
It stood on top of the largest hill in the valley, giving a good view of the surrounding area. The house was made out of bricks, and I'm not exactly sure what had happened to it, but it looked like it had once been caught on fire, or something, so it was nothing but bricks now that looked like they would fall apart any day now.  
  
You can imagine how easy it is for me to sleep in it, knowing that.  
  
.  
  
Entering through what must have once been the front door, I was greeted by the faint smell of cooked-meat. Ruby was already there, reading one of the four books she had taken with her. She had also taken some other stuff from her 'lab', but I hadn't asked what they were. She had expressed her frustration over not beeng able to take everything with us, but understood the reason why she couldn't.  
  
She didn't look up from her book when I entered. Not that I actually care whether if she would or not.  
  
As for the little guy, once he had seen it was me, he returned back into eating his cooked-meat, not moving away from the dark corner he was sitting in.  
  
I decided to tell them how my talk with the sea-turtle fan had went.  
  
"I talked to the smuggler, and I believe things should start moving tomorrow morning."  
  
"I see." She still didn't look up from her book.  
  
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the small black box and opened it. The large diamond sparkled, even in the dark. It was one of the clan's treasures that they had collected through the ages, and Ruby had decided to take some with us, in case we would need money. Which we do.  
  
"Are you sure it's a good idea giving away something this valuable?"  
  
"Are you sure we will be alright when we will be moved to America?" Ouch.  
  
"Good point." I decided not to tell Ruby I was carrying a pistol, wich was one of the weapons that was used when we attacked the gargoyles. I'm no gun- expert, but I think the pistol's type is a Glock. Whatever that means.  
  
I had taken it plus another pistol that I had hidden in my bag when no-one had been looking, right before Ruby had taken the rest and thrown them away in a deep lake. I can understand her extreme dislike to guns, especially the ones that had killed her brothers and sisters, but I need something to protect myself in case something ugly might happen. Besides, we ARE going to New York, and my crapy apartment just happens to be in what must be THE most crappiest apartment-building whose location is in the most filthiest and dangerous area in New York city.  
  
As for what was done with the bodies, either gargolyes or the humans, I have no idea, nor do I really wanna know.  
  
Anyway, I was planning on going to see, since the sun would be going up in less then six hours, when I felt something tab into my left leg.  
  
It was the little guy, and even though he barely reached my chest area, he had managed rather well in sneaking up to me.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Looking rather shy,his raven black hair all jumbled, his hand raised up to me while holding something in it. It seemed to be something made out of black material, and had small though long string attached into it.  
  
"For me?" The little guy nodded, and I picked the object up. It was a small black-leather eye-patch. It was neatly cut around the edges, though I had no idea where he had gotten it from.  
  
Saying nothing, I removed my sunglasses and placed the eyepatch over my left eye. It fit perfectly, though the string was slightly tight, but I would have to get used to that. Maybe after getting myself a haircut would make it fit better....  
  
Going down on my left knee, I looked at the little guy and smiled genuinely, something that I haven't done in ages.  
  
"Thank you." Before I knew it, the little guy suddenly bounced and hugged me tightly. Acting more out of surprise, I somewhat returned the hug clumsily, utterly unsure on what to do.  
  
Ruby smirked, but offered no help.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
"I hope that your men know what they're doing?"  
  
The sun was slowly rising as the two statues were loaded into the large truck, right outside the ruined house on the hill.  
  
"This ain't the first statues I've moved." Answered the smuggler, as his men strapped the statues securily.  
  
"Now, I belive you an' me need to discuss on how yer gonna make all this worth me while." Walton, not wearing his sunglasses but his new eyepatch, looked at the old smuggler.  
  
"You'll get my special sea-turtle once we reach New York." But the old geezer only shaked his head, a nasty grin slowly appearing on his wrinkled face.  
  
"Ah, then I belive me an' ye got a problem. See, I managed to contact an' ol' friend of mine who owns a tanker that just happens to be headin' to the Big Apple, but I got no intentions on goin' to THAT place. So tell me, boy, what will we do?"  
  
Walton's mind was in overdrive, trying to think of something before the situation would turn ugly.  
  
"Very well....then how about this: You'll tag along as we head to that tanker, and once my sea-turtles are tugged in nicely in that ship, you and I can have a little exchange. How does that sound?" The old geezer nodded slowly.  
  
"Like a deal to me." He offered Walton a hand who accepted it, sealing they're deal.  
  
What could go wrong?  
  
.  
  
.  
  
To be continued.... 


End file.
